The Deserted Journey
by dizzy4
Summary: Jubilee lost it all once before. As a new student at Bayville High, she may find she has the chance to avenge the killer who took her life away. But who is this kindred spirit who shares her fears? Could it be there are others like her?UPDATED Aug05
1. Strange Dreams

The Deserted Journey  
Swirling clouds. Above, around, in and out; their colors unknown. Un seeable? Maybe. Biting cold. Loneliness. Truth...the awful truth. "But the truth will set you free". But the truth is my prison. Running. Sweat glistens from my forehead. Keep...going...almost there...Where is there? Stop. The wind blows about; dust and grime stick to me. No. They are I. Go on? Why. Why do I go on-onwards is where I must be perhaps. Images, frightening, disgraceful. You did this. All this. The blame. Is the blame on me? Why is it on me? How did I do it all! Damaged, I'm scared. Alone. Alone always. Will they come? No, to long already. He says they are dead. Are they really? Should I believe him? Why. Why me.  
  
"Because no one else can."   
  
Can? Or will?  
  
"It is your choice."  
  
But if I don't, what will happen if I, if I say no? Can I end it?  
  
"Insignificant. Pointless. Replaceable. You are all these things. Why waste time? Why fight the unavoidable and accept your fate."  
  
Fate. Is it all in fate's plan? Death, destruction. Innocence ripped apart, naivety obliterated. All that was mine...was it ever? Fate. Is fate hell then?  
  
"Why waste time with such questions. No matter. It will happen with or without you. Unimportant. You are a disease. You will be erased. A mistake repeated. Never again. It won't happen. No." Finality.   
  
My choice. But is it really? What can I do other wise. Pain. Torture. Attack. I'm splitting apart. It tears at me. My mind and body, both violated, raped of their goodness. Gone. Life. To live is to die. All have their time, so why do I fight it. To fight; my fight. But is it really mine? A fight. The world's fight. On my shoulder's. Fight. Kill. Enemy. Protect. Protect whom?  
  
"Insignificant. All you do, all that will be done. Insignificant. All will be to ashes. Gone."  
  
Hate. Do I hate him? Feelings...so strange...numb. So numb; Oh GOD the pain.   
  
"Tell me, and it is over. No more. Peace."  
  
Again. He does it again. Taunts me with freedom. To grasp it would be so easy...so easy. Why not? Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Pain. No more. Gone. Could it be? I'm loosening. No. I won't. May I be taken to hell if I do! No.  
  
"Foolish child. Have you still not learned? I am in control. Choose. You shall lose. Triumph will not be yours."  
  
Peace. I pray for it. No. I will not. No. It is mine. MINE!!!! Screams. Shrieks. Horrible sounds. Putrid burning. Flesh. Blood. Something will die today. Mine. My blood. My pain. My flesh. Attacks...Attacks whom? The enemy. Slice. Metal brushing bone. More shrieks. Heat, burning heat; flesh, my flesh. Peels, why does it peel? It can take no more. But it's mine. MINE! Victory,....mine...mine? Yes. Why? I am...strong?  
  
"No. Weak. Lose. Die. End. Darkness. The abyss calls, yet you evade. Fate. DESTINY!"  
  
Cries. Helpless cries. Me? No...us. Us. How can I be 'us'? Nonsense. Truth. The same things; Freedom-prison. Same things as well. Your prison locks your freedom, yet your freedom imprisons you. Air. Light...cool, refreshing. Victory...mine. Behind me. Can't go back. Must move on, I must go on. I won the battle. The enemy, the enemy is gone. But it won the war; for now. 


	2. The Morning After

            **Ah. Chapter two. Well, this is nice…no ones reading it..o well. O.k. I know the last chapter was kind of, well, "abstract" but as the story draws to an end, it will all make perfect sense. For anyone who wasn't scared away by chapter 1, comments, help and feedback are most welcome, so PLEASE review. Thanks, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: do I look like an elder white male (Stan Lee)  who owns a billion dollar enterprise (marvel comics)? Really? Well then, it would make sense that I write a fanfic as oppose to actually publishing it. **

**Sigh. Just don't sue, k? it don't belong to me.**

'Ahhh!'

            Jubilee's heart pounded. The shrill scream echoed eerily around her, and she pulled her blankets tightly around her. Clenching her eyes shut, she prayed the demons of night to abandonment. Clutching a small locket, her body curling defensively, she prepared for darks assault.

            "Well, _some_one looks 'pleasant' today."

            "Yeah! What's the matter? Immie have a nightmare?" Casting a withering glare to her patronizing entourage, the young Asian muttered a select string of curses.

            "Young lady! What did you just say?" Mrs. Jolly hissed tersely. Before Jubilee could reply, the withered woman grabbed her by the arm. Yanking her to her feet, the thirteen-year old yelped in pain. 

"Class," the weathered witch cried. "I am escorting this delinquent to the headmistress' office. If I hear so much as a peep," she glared at the now-quiet class, "janitorial duties for all!"

Dragging the wispy child behind her, she slammed the door. Two boys exchanged sly grins.

"Shafted!"

"Now Jubilation. You know Saint Marie's Prefatory School holds respect for the high-class students who attend. That respect, however, can only be handed out to the population of _well-behaved_ young adults. You, on the other hand," 

Jubilee sighed. This caught the attention of Miss. Manners. Stepping from behind her bureau, she straightened to her looming height. Shoulders squared, her beady eyes narrowed. Despite the severity of the situation, Jubilee felt inclined to laugh. At the site of the whip, however, the feeling subsided.

"Now, the law may prevent the sister's from using capital punishment, bless the old days…But perhaps bringing this to the attention of your parents will rectify the situation!"

The pupil tensed. She knew exactly what her parents would do. Emigrated from China, they're standards of achievement were always higher than Jubilee cared to reach. Once, she'd blown off a math assignment, and her parents had forbade her from frequenting the arcade! Another time, she'd failed a quiz, and her gymnastics lessons had been cancelled.

Of, course, that didn't stop her from going. She'd gotten a sponsor while in-lining at a park, and continued her lessons with that money. As long as they weren't paying for it, the parentals had no idea what she was up to. Maybe if they'd spend more time with her…

Interrupting her thoughts was the receiver of the telephone, thrust into her face. Looking up, her cerulean eyes met with the water pools of Hitler. The Headmistress grinned smugly.

"For you, _dear_."


	3. Unravel the String

**Ok, third chapter already, wow for me! So, thank you very much to the two people who actually read my story. In response, Yes, Wolverine will be in here, either by next chapter or the one after that. And no, it will not be a juby/woly romance. I apologize to all who like that, but personally, I am a fan of the comics and love their whole parental/partner thing they have going on.**

**      Also, this will be a sort of x-men/evolution x-over, thus Scott, jean, rogue and all are in high school. Same will go for wolverine, (well, his appearance will be that of a high school senior, but we all know about his botched up past). And those are all the spoilers for tonight. Thanks a lot guys, and keep reading!**

**Disclaimer: Am I going to have to do this every time? Sigh. Said it before, I'll say it again. I don't OWN (technically) any of the x-men characters utilized in this FAN fiction. (See that? It says fan. As in "like it, don't own it. Got it?)**

**K, read!**

      Jubilee licked her lips nervously. Reaching out for the phone, she winced as she heard her mother's angry tone. The headmistress sat back, contently.

      "Hey, mummy! What's up?"

      Slinking her knapsack over her shoulder, Jubes strapped her roller blades snugly. Usually the thought of missing school to go home would brighten her cynical demeanour, but not today. Her mother's words echoed angrily through her mind;

      **_"Jubilation Lee! Is this your life mission? To dishonour our family? We move from China to build better life for you! Your father work very, VERY hard to gain his position! We have blessed you with money and good education! WHY! Why were we cursed with such, such, insolence for a child? Go home. You leave school right now and go home. We will fax your punishment to your nanny...let her deal with you."_**

      Her skating became rhythmic and furious. The gravel sent pleasant tingling's up her legs but remained unnoticed. She could feel her nose and eyes sting with tears fighting to be shed.

      _What's the point?_ She thought to herself. _This is nothing new. They never cared before, why should the start now?_

      Rounding the bend, she threw her arms out to regain balance. Her navy jumper held tight until she heard a soft 'rip!' Tiny rocks flew around her as her feet soared from beneath her. 

      As she tightened into a ball, the sharp feel of cement shaved her skin and she slowly flopped to a stop. Feeling the stares of bystanders, Jubilee felt her face burn with embarrassment. 

      She stood up shakily, ignoring their feigned sympathy and ripped the sports jacket from beneath her bag. The tie was next. After that was fixed around her split knee, she un-tucked her now wrinkled white blouse, and rolled the top of her pleated kilt for enhanced movement.

      Gliding the few next blocks resulted without further incident; that was until she spotted Banker's Hall. The building arched far overhead, and its reflecting material mirrored Beverly Hill's sun. It was within that structure her parent's sat. It was there their attentions where prioritized; before their life, marriage, or daughter.

      Her round face hardened at that thought. She skated up to the cool metal doors. Grasping the handle, she pulled them open.

      _They can't ignore me if I'm there_, she thought connivingly. _Jubes, my dear, you are a genius!_

      "You can see then, Mr Lee, why this investment cannot be delayed any further. It is a reality; mutants exist. They are all around us and it is up to proud citizens like ourselves to uphold the American virtue of purity." Matt paused. Picking up the glass pitcher, he gazed out the window. As he poured himself a drink, he continued. "In collaboration with your prominent business and my own, Telware security can do just that."

      Mr Lee remained still. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

      Jubilee fidgeted. After slipping past security, she found herself in the airway system. Climbing through the dizzying tunnels was an obstacle to say the least. At last, she had made it! 

      Below her sat her father and an odd looking man. Tall and thin, thick blond hair crowned his angular head. He stared at her father through bright, beady eyes. He had a slight twitch to his left eye, and she noticed a pale scar beneath his left cheek. He seemed trustworthy enough, but she couldn't shake the anxious feeling he gave her. She leaned in closer.

      They'd been discussing rather boring subjects, save the last few minutes. The Telaware guy had began a speech on a mutant tracking service. 

      Drawing her round lips into a frown, she crinkled her nose. Mutants? Why would someone want to track them?

      Had she, perhaps been paying more attention to her surroundings, she would have heard the metal groan. She would have felt the tunnel shift slightly. Unfortunately, like most teenagers, she paid no heed to those warning signs. Instead, she redirected her attention to the conversation below.

      "I understand your concerns, Mister Hudson. My bank, however, has no interest in involving itself with any sort of spy ware. We work in the best interest of our costumers, and feel it a unnecessary precaution." Mr Lee's voice was slightly shaken, but firm.

      Matt Hudson glared at the short Chinese man. His upper lip curled into a quiet snarl.

      "You realize, of course, the akwardness of this situation. Telaware Tech has been an avid sponsor of your business since you began a little over twelve years ago. Perhaps you do not realize the urgency of this matter." 

Standing, the Caucasian walked threateningly towards the other man. Mr Lee stood in response.

"Do not threaten me, Mr Hudson. You may be accustom to others bending to your will. This is my company. It runs as I see fit. Now, kindly gather your things and leave." Mr Hudson advanced. "Now," he repeated.

Suddenly, a loud groan caught their attention. Throwing their gazes upwards, they gasped, and raced immediately from the office. No sooner had they flung themselves from the room did the ceiling collapse. A scream resonated across the floor as the metal air conditioning duct crushed the desk. A loud boom drowned out the frightened cries.

The dust settled slowly, and both Mr Hudson and Lee approached cautiously. A small figure heaved the foamy tiles from over her, and coughed. Slowly, Jubilee stood, looking sheepish.

"Oh,...um, hey dad...*cough, cough*"

Mr Lee's look of astonishment morphed slowly into inexpressible anger. Coolly turning to his guest, he signalled his receptionist.

"Lola, please escort Mr Hudson to his car, while I speak to this, delinquent."

**And...I'm spent!**


	4. Burn the Needle

          AN: Whew! Hmm, yes well; it certainly has taken me a while to type out this next chapter, hasn't it? I really do apologize. I had it all written out, then I lost the disk, along with most of my files, and then other things just kept on happening…I am really sorry!

            This chapter is one of the darkest, because (in my opinion) the death of ones parent's or guardian type figure tends to leave and imprint, and I really wanted to make clear the bitter and callous attitude she so coolly doses. This was supposed to be posted Jan 1st, but seeing as the sight is down for 24 hours, it'll be up Jan 2nd. Happy New Year all!

                                                Burn the Needle

          The dust may have long since settled, but her eyes continued to water. Her father stood before her eyes shifting between the damage she had caused and her eyes. She wanted him to scream, she wanted him to swear, to curse, anything but this. 

                Instead, he gave her the look, and this told her all: Disappointment, confusion, such intense anger and worse of all, embarrassment. He began to pace, poking the broken foam with his foot, muttering Chinese incantations. She heard every word.

                "I, I'm sorry," she tried to say, her voice all but drowned by guilt. "I was curious, I wanted to hear, I-I didn't think it would break…Dad," he raised a palm to silence her.

                "That just it, hm? You. It always about you." Her jaw snapped shut. "Who cares if your mother and father worked their whole lives to build respect, to create all that you have. Selfish!" she jumped back. He kept his face from her, she could not even appeal to his eyes. Even so, his voice bit, hard. There was no turning away, no place to hide. This was all her fault. Jubilee was not then, the happy and snappy teen. She was just like all the other Beverly snobs she so detested.

                "Dad, please," she had never in her life felt such remorse, such utter personal distaste. 

                "Get out," he hissed. Jubilee stared at him, appalled. "Out" he condemned. Shock reined her body. Numbly lifting her knapsack onto her shoulders, she trudged slowly to the door, felt the coolness of the handle and opened it. 

                "Bye," she whispered, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

The wind was cold. In all her life she had never felt such a cold, or such a fear. Even the moon morphed into mocking masks. The dark, which at one time had been her only friend, now stood against her. Before her stood her house, looming in a strangely ominous way. It had never looked at her that way before. She knew it was her own fault, she knew she had no one but herself to blame. For once, the blame fell entirely on her shoulders, fault being laid on no other.

She wanted to avoid this moment, the judgment that awaited her through the tall mahogany doors. Nothing she could say would plead her case and (possibly the only time in her life) she lost her need to be right. Her feet lead the way, body protesting.  Through the iron gates, up the winding marble pathway, past the courtesy limo, the corvette, the family Porsche; each expense added to the throng of knives digging their way through her soul. I'm such a jerk! Her mind jolted.

Up past the glorified entrance, she reached to the panel beside the doors, ready to enter her access code. Before she raised a finger, her eyes caught a bright light, filtering between a crack. The entry stood slightly ajar. Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she cautiously pushed it open. Her parents always kept the doors shut and barred, where they really so clouded by disappointment that they had forgotten? Impossible as it seemed, more guilt found its way to her.

Closing with a resolute 'click', the doors blocked her escape. Chokingly stepping forward, Jubilee called out;

"Mum, Dad?" no answer. She gulped. "Are you guys home?" The living room flourished in an expanse of Persian rugs and original Monet's. Her eyes searched for any sign of maid's, butlers, helpers who usually filled the mansion in every corner. No one could be found. Nervousness seeped in place of her confusion. Quickening her pace, she strode into the kitchen.

No chef bustling about for dinner's preparation, no frenzied state as succulent goods flew together in a frying pan; nothing. "Francois?" no response either.

Jubilee's gaze traced to the stove, which she noticed was turned on. The burners blinked brightly, noting someone's presence was here. Approaching, she detected an odd substance around the searing metal. Sniffing the air, she noted the incense of burning residue. Lifting a wooden spoon, she poked the slab of charcoal, which resembled some evolved meat-like substance. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she spun, facing the opposing wall. She froze. Suddenly, she understood just what the melted chunk was.

Her mind raced. Images of similar sights flooded her mind, televisions interpretation not quite matching the description before her. Blood; litres, gallons, rivers of it; it dripped over the freezers handle, splashed on the wall, spelled out 'murder' in ripples. Her brain shut down. Impossible, her mind whispered. It can't be, it can't be! Ignoring her survival instincts, she grabbed the soaking handle, springing open the freezers heavy frame. Her lunch heaved a path out her mouth.

They were laid, no, hung all over the frozen ice. Her eyes teared, a deep nausea overwhelming her. Fear no longer seemed an emotion but a brutal confrontation. Francois, the man who created masterpieces of cuisine dangled, a horrified mask burned on his face, from thick hooks used for animal hides. Mina, Iesha, the gardener, they were all appointed a similar fate. Deep gashes lined their bodies, as if some beast had literally ripped out their lives. Giant holes of missing limbs and skin told the story of their deaths, their blood freshly dripping out in a river where she stood.

Jubilee stood agape. Her mouth dropped open, terror fed her soul.

"Ahh!" she screamed, a gargling sound perpetuated from somewhere deep. Throwing herself to her feet, she all but slipped in the sticky crimson, rushing out of the decaying stench. "AGHH!" her shrieks filled the dead house. She cried, louder, louder, praying for someone to hear her voice. Logic long since abandoned, she ran up the familiar staircase, bloody hands marking the banister and walls as she slid clumsily up. "Momma," she whispered. The steps grew increasingly steeper as she advanced, terror seizing her heart. "Daddy…"

                The hallway to the master suite looked as normal as ever. No pictures hung askew, no rustling of rugs, scratched paint or any sign of struggle. A brief elation filled her. They got away, her mind pumped. They hid, they ran. She crept through the corridor, as silent as possible. The possibility of the attacker remaining struck her for a moment, and she thought quickly of abandoning her quest. Grotesque images of the faculty below forced her to keep on track. They won't end up like that…they can't end up like that.

                Repeating the mantra through her chaotic psyche, she found it somewhat easier to trace a way to the door. Her hand trembled violently as she reached out for the handle. She tried once, twice, thrice to grasp the illusive crystal knob. On the fourth try, however, her fingers managed to grasp the coolness weakly, turning the clutch as they did. A familiar click blasted her ears away and the door creaked open.

                Her heart plunged through her chest. A loss of sensation, stronger than any fear draped her very core and she wished for nothing more then waking from this nightmare. Hunks of plaster and mortar were missing from the usually immaculate chamber. Broken glass from various lamps and picture frames crackled under her steps as she approached the bed. Two forms, two beloved corpses screamed back at her from the grave.

                "…M-mom," her voice carried little less then a sob. The makers of her existence, the Adam and Eve of her life were laid in a sadistically picturesque fashion, their mauled faces leaning into one another. Only their eyes told the tale of their fear, their horror. "dad," she choked again. Throwing herself onto their bodies, she pleaded desperately to uncaring faces.

                "Don't go, p-please don't…wake up!!" she trembled brutally, carelessly wiping tears from her bloodied face. Her fingertips searched for the faintest breath, the lightest pulse, and found none. "WAKE UP!" her howls received no response. Logic seared a path to her tantric state and she remembered the presence of the phone. Reaching across, she yanked the receiver her way, punching in the lifesaving three-digit code.

 "Hello, nine-one-one. What is the state of your emergency?" Her voice lost its way to hysterics. She tried to remain calm, to do exactly what she'd been taught in first aid; deliver all the information and remain on the line for further assistance. The advice deemed simpler to follow when corpses did not grin your way.

"B-blood, there's so much…oh my god…" 

"Please miss, remain calm. What is the address of the accident? Do you need paramedical assistance?" the voice of the administrational cooed irritatingly soft, almost sing-songy. Jubilee choked back a gag.

"S-seven…no, t-three seventy-four Beverly Hills Crescent. Oh my god, p-please, they're not breathing," a cold chill ran down her spine. Something told her she was no longer alone. Turning around slowly, she felt another wave of shock lace her bones.

"Miss? Miss? Are you still there? Miss, please remain on the line until help arrives." It smirked. Demonic eyes glowed from beneath furry brows, a squashed nose and curled lip donning the monster closest resemblance to some sort of wildcat. It kept its gaze locked on Jubilee, shifting momentarily to his handy work on the duvet then sending her a chilling grin. 

A new sickness washed over her. It pulsated more powerfully than the shock that stole away her senses, the pain of her loss, the grotesque brutality of the moment. One word could describe the fire that burned her veins, searing her insides on fire. Revenge.

It strutted around the bed, to where the phone plugged into the wall. Reaching out with a claw-like hand, he ripped the feeble line from the wall, smirking as dust danced around them both. The urgent demands of the emergency receptionist cut off immediately, leaving only the two until the police arrived.

Its lip curled up, revealing two extended canine fangs. They glinted red; the same shade through which the young teen saw. A cry echoed around her and she realized it came from her own mouth.

"MURDERER!" she cried, leaping to the towering beast. With one arm, he repelled her attack, sending her reeling across the room. Instead of smashing into the wall however, she flipped mid-toss, pushing off the soft drywall barrelling into the being full force. Her elbows collided with his ribs, shooting air from his lungs. She was sure she heard a cracking as they landed.

"I'm gonna enjoy this, frail," he grunted. In a split second, he was back on his feet, claws digging mercilessly into her neck. Slow, so painfully slow, he pulled her until she hung level from his face. Her eyes burned, her lungs burned, her whole body smouldered as an invisible fire spread through her. Is this what is feels like to die?

Just as her eyes rolled back, flickering for what she thought was certainly the final time, the itching in her hands became overpowering. The proverbial scent of scalding flesh reached her mind and she was vaguely aware of hitting the ground as beastie howled in pain.

Her airway open, oxygen burst in her lungs, the most tantalizing of all palatable goodness. She blinked, once, twice and the dizziness faded, only to be replaced by a continual smashing of bells beneath her brow. Still though, the heat did not recede. Instead, it intensified smoking her hands in a blistering blaze.

She looked up, confusion ebbing her closer to insanity as she saw scald marks on the monster's arms, still smoking from her touch. Even more surprising was the fact that they were beginning to heal, closing before her very eyes!

"What the fuck…" she whispered. The oversized fur ball all but chortled at the revelation.

"Mutant, eh?" he licked the grime from his claws and started toward her, menace leaking from every stride. Raising his trunk-like arm, the razor fingers fell toward her faster than lightening. Her eyes viewed the next scene in slow motion.

Hands raised, Jubilee let out a cry as they exploded. Loud bangs erupted around the room, as if some military militia were pounding rounds over a megaphone. Lights, brighter than anything she'd ever seen, blazed before her, carrying a heat more intense than infinite suns. Kitty caught the blast in his gut, claws but an inch from her skull. The force propelled through him, vaulting him not only across the room, but through the thickly paned glass of the balcony's French doors. 

The glass dissipated within the heated vortex, the villain shrieking over the ledge. Then, it was over. The light receded, the sonic booms were unheard, and all that remained was the searing pain of acidic flames.

She dared not move. She dared not make any sound that would shake her from her shock filled reverie. Time, it seems, pauses for no one. 

"HANGHH! AGHHH!" All at once it returned; the pain, the anger, the loss, the confusion. "AGH!" She lifted her blistered and smoking palms as if praying for release from the heavens. Blinded by tears, she somehow found her parent's once more. Her wails muffled slightly as she buried her face in the softness of their embrace. Around her, a soft comfort held her, the only factor enabling her mind to resist the calling of insanity. "N-noo, noo," she sobbed, over and over and over.

In the distance, police lights flashes, ropes marking off the Mansion. They had carried away the cook, the maids, the gardener. Broken howls guided them to the next horror. The press jumped excitedly at the new addition to the evening news, it was sure to make headlines.

They found her on the bed, huddling before the corpses. Blood and sweat and fear intermingled on both her physical and psychological state.

"Come this way dear," their voices were soft, their guidance well meant. To her though, they were all empty promises. Promises of joys that would never again present themselves, wonders she would never again feel and a family she would never again have. 

Lingering one final stare as she was hauled away in the back of a cruiser, she felt her eyes glaze; no more tears able to fall. She whispered a final salutation;

"Goodbye."

s                                                                                                                                                                        s

Now that that's all nicely done, onto the next chapter! It will be a lot less intense. The introduction of the X-team will be made and (yay!) Wolvie's first appearance. Bare with me, it will not take another year, upon my word!

Love you all,

@_@


	5. New York, New York

AN: Yeah, yeah, I know I said this chapter would be a lot lighter than the last, but I've had an absolutely atrocious couple of weeks and couldn't seem to raise myself from its dank nature. Still, the intensity is a lot less as the x-men make their 1st appearance and Jubilee and Wolverine first meet. Please review; I need the cheer **sad panda. **Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: X-men and all its affiliates belong to Stan Lee and Marvel, this work being one of fiction, all ideas coming from the inner workings of an obsessed comic geek. I have nothing. Thank you.

New York, New York Three Years Later… 

          The sun had not yet risen, the clouds still varnished their winter chill and as far as Marie was concerned, there was little reason to awaken. Unfortunately, it was not her choice. As such, she found herself jogging despairingly behind another disgruntled form.

                "C'mon now Rogue! Two more laps to go," a voice much to perky for the early hours chided, the iceman chuckling sadistically as he rounded his final bend. A shorter brunette caught along side her, irate question leaving her panting lips.

                "Rogue, I understand the importance of 'exercising' our bodies along with our abilities, but why can't we do it, you know, _after_ sunrise?" Her only sympathy manifested as a sorrowful laugh and an empty shrug. The attractive, (albeit sweaty) junior sighed. "Right."

                It was hours after this daily occurrence that the same group of mindful joggers found themselves before a different building; high as it was wide, dark brick adding to its distinctive guise as dead ivy continued their zombie-crawl up the sides. The words 'Bayville Senior High' blazed unimpressed under the waning sky as several hundred students milled before its closed gates.

                They broke off, the tall all-American Boy Scout trailing alongside the stunning redhead, eyes hidden beneath quartz lenses; the athletically lofty Cajun leading an edgy, attitude rocker whilst the haughty, regal stature of the platinum African goddess marched her own route.

                Left on his own was the lone wolf; the mighty wolverine. Berserker, insane and as social as a rabid dog, he perched on the edge of his bike. The chill of the brutal Westchester wind brought no pain to his bare arms. Even if it had, he would felt it for but a fraction of a moment before his body healed over. His body copied much the action of his mind. Live; survive; heal. Domination is key and losing is never an option. This law had kept him alive for all the years he could not remember, and they were certain to allow him passage through this stage.

 Sucking the last bit from his cigarette, he extinguished its light in his palm, idly fascinated as the skin bubbled and blistered before quickly covering the wound in clean, fresh flesh. Dragging a heavy booted leg over the top of his motorcycle, he headed into the crowded building.

_Jock. Loser. Cheerleader. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk._ Jubilee watched the passing teens lazily, her mind automatically processing them as they were. The same. Her slim, starved form cradled itself oddly in the dark, wooden chairs of Bayville High's counselling centre. What might have at one time been a sweater hung over her bony shoulders in stitched rags, the sleeves of a black shirt peaking from beneath a dirty pink t-shirt. Her thighs were covered only by a pair of baggy cut-off's, the ends dangling just below her bruised knees. Black clad feet swung impassively as she awaited the arrival of some TV-studio nerd to show her the cordial high school classism. 

She needn't remove her blaring earphones to understand what the students already thought of her;

"God! Look at what she's wearing!"

"Hello! Grunge was over for a reason!"

"She must think she's soo rebellious. Whatever. I hate poser's."

Internally, she shrugged. It made no difference what they thought, mostly because they didn't. They saw different; they saw strange and unseen and they were scared. Therefore, they responded only as they best knew how.

"Here's fifty cents," yelled a callous voice. "Call yourself a hygienist!" 

Through pitiless ignorance. Picking up the two quarters, she shrugged and shoved them into her pockets, ready for future use. 

It did not take long for the halls to empty and save for the clatter of a few remaining feet, the corridors were all but vacated. Through the frosted glass, Jubilee could feel the arduous glares of the office personal. She sighed.

"Time to go for a walk then," she muttered. Just then, a new presence threw itself before her. She glanced up, eyes peeking from below a thick black toque to see the visage of Principal Kelly. 

"Jubilation, I presume?" He waited for no response. Extending his hand, he awaited her acceptance. She refused, instead raising an eyebrow in his wake. A look of foolishness crept across his features and he shrugged the refusal as a mistake, nevertheless continuing on. "So sorry about the wait. Great confusion always follows a new morning," he chuckled falsely. She kept her weary gaze unaltered. He cleared his throat. "Very well then, you've already reviewed the information package? We sent it to your parents…" her eyes narrowed at the accusation. He didn't notice. "All that is left now is a quick our of the school, and you're ready to begin your new time here!"

                A shorter, burlier figure stepped from behind him, and Jubilee felt her breath catch. He was unlike anyone she had ever seen; Barely reaching five-eight but with massively wide, rounded shoulders and well defined muscles, his face told the story of a man not much older than she, yet at the same time, timeless. While most teenaged boys found it difficult to sprout any trace of testosterone increase, he had not only a head full of wild, shaggy chestnut locks, but bristly stubble barely exceeding the three o'clock shadow.

                It, however, was neither his stature nor his flannel dress code that caught her attention. It was his eyes. They held a depth greater than any sea, equivalent to the power of a black hole. Within their cobalt depths swirled so many secrets, hypnotizing her with their promises of half-truths and mixed lies. They were familiar; locked behind a black screen. Breaking the spell between them, she blinked at the realization. _He's like me._

                "May I introduce your guide, umm, uhh," he stuttered for a name, squinting his beady eyes behind the oversized spectacles.

                "Logan," his voice was low and gruff, more a growl than anything else. It suddenly struck her odd that they would have chosen such an obvious recluse for their systematic integration. She shrugged the thought; their educational system was not renown for their genius. "C'mon then, let's git this over with." And he stalked forward, neither waiting nor caring if she followed. She smirked.

                "The first floor is mostly used for the arts; English, drama, CTS," he motioned to various doors, opening one and pointing to the expanse of PC's and monitors. A school with money? Well, this was certainly new.

                They continued up the second level (maths) the third (sciences) and the fourth (research and study). Along the way, their silence was broken by irregular facts, none of which Jubilee paid the slightest attention. 

                The lunch bell tolled, signalling not only the end of their tour, but also the end of the first half of the day. 

                "Any questions?" he barked, clearly bothered at having to spend his morning lugging a vapidly ignorant teen about. She could most likely afford all she chose, and yet she remained swaddled in threads unfit for trash bags. At first, she said nothing. Just as he was to leave, she spoke; so silently only he heard.

                "Where're you from?" Pause. Glancing back her way, Logan raised a bushy brow.

                "Why?" she shrugged.

                "You have an accent." He eyed her suspiciously and she felt her mind provide him another check. Cautious, vigilant, rude. She was beginning to like the fur ball more and more.

                "Canada." She nodded.

                "Used to the cold then?" again, he cast her a curious stare. "No jacket," she stated pointedly.

His eyes burned into her own and she felt oddly like a rodent caught by a giant cat. It brought back memories…memories she had tried so hard to repress. Her eyes returned his heat and, as if accepting her challenge, he smirked.

"It's lunch; go do something useful." She rolled her eyes.

"Like what? Join the cheer squad?" He shrugged, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

"Don't know, don't care." He breathed a long drag, grinning contently as it smoked from his mouth. Jubilee watched as he headed to the parking lot, presumably to waste the remaining hours of the day. 

Checking her watch, she noted lunch was likely to be over in a few minutes. Deciding she could easily catch up on her skipping record, she turned back among the troops, thundering back through the metallic doors. In the distance, she heard the roar of a racing cycle as it revved and she felt a grin creep onto her lips. He was interesting, this one.

The remainder of the day was uneventful and included her sleeping through most (if not all) of her classes. She had taken a slight detour that afternoon, and ended arriving at the door minutes before midnight. The mall; it was her calling. What more need be said?

The Simmons left their door unlocked. They were just that kind of people. Jubilee had been sent to New York about a month ago, after being released from Juvy Hall. The orphanage had promised her a good home, if she swore not to run; mind you, it is much easier to get what one desires if they simply indulge those who believe in their power. So she had stayed; her longest time ever. It was the first Christmas in a long time that she had spent with a family.

Things are never how they seem, and it didn't take long for Jubilee to uncover the sick truth of this nuclear trade in. The mother is just as alcoholic, the father just as perverted, and the actual child just as messed up. She had long given up on normalcy.

Creeping past the ensnaring locks, she slinked up the stairwell, careful to make little noise. Her stomach grumbled and she suddenly realised she had not eaten all day. Swallowing her hunger as she'd done before, she kept her silence until she entered the small box she called her own. Furnished only with a bed and dresser, it was all she wanted.

Through the walls, she could hear the thumping of an unwilling body against the wall, and the muffled scream accompanying the attack. She plugged her earphones into her ears blasting the bass as loud as the guitars could scream. Not even bothering to remove her clothing, she slipped under the covers, nestling in comfortably between two corners. It wasn't long until darkness claimed her, horrors following her even into a subconscious abyss.

"Momma," she whispered, a silent cry meant for no one, a mute tear seen by the unknown.

Next chapter: The x-men team stops at the mall for a little Luke day shopping, and guess who they see performing a little light show? How does she do it? (Idea incorporated from Jubilee's 1st appearance in the Uncanny X-men). This new student also seems to be stirring up some trouble at school. Has Logan perhaps found a kindred spirit? Read on and find out!


	6. Danger in the Mall

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously. I am as poor as I am, for if I were any wealthier, I would not be as I am. Therefore, as it is inconceivable that a leech be gold, it is the same for a dizzy to be a Stan Lee. Each have their uses, some better then others. All character's (save the Simmons; you can have them if you want...) belong to Marvel and its many corporate affiliates. Thanks. Read!!!  
  
Danger in the Mall  
  
"Good morning New York City! It's another gorgeous day in the Big Apple as the skies bless us with sunny heat-" Jubilee snorted sleepily, pulling the covers tighter over her head. The past few months had slipped by in the way inevitability always did. She spent each morning dreading the march to school, her day dreading the march back 'home'. It was only the new bond she felt between herself and Logan that had made the time manageable.  
  
Crawling out from the warmth of the covers, she peeked her head out the door. The fresh scent of fried bacon and eggs assaulted her already growling innards and she briefly pondered going down and joining in their delight. However, another quick sniff reminded her of the need to shower before the entire city choked on her stench.  
  
"Rank," she mumbled, starting down the stairwell and to the vacant room. Shutting the door, she carefully removed her layers. Reaching out, she turned on the faucet, laying the thick folds in the fresh water. She allowed them to soak for a few moments before removing them, wringing them out best she could and draping them over the toilet to dry. Pulling a small metallic lever, she grinned as the steaming waterfall cascaded to the bottom of the marble tile. Stepping in, she let out an appreciative moan. "Indoor plumbing, what a gift!"  
  
The water pounded her tiny frame, deafening her in cleansing rivers. It reminded her of a time, once when she was young. Her mom and dad were sitting next to her as she played jovially in the fresh sands of California. Every so often, a large wave would sweet over them, drenching them and they would laugh. She recalled how happy she felt then, how warm and safe...then that night when her father held her in his arms, her mother leaned against them both and they made their way slowly back home. Her heart ached in remembrance, and she bit her lip, refusing to allow tears to fall.  
  
Suddenly, a loud crash interrupted her thoughts. She froze. The curtain ripped open and she grabbed what she could to conceal her nude form. "HEY!" she screamed. Looking up, Tia Simmons rolled her eyes and reached in, picking up a dripping container of hair lotion. Jubilee growled, wrapping the curtain tighter around her. "You can't knock?" she demanded. The blond strode to the mirror, wiping of the steam and checked her appearance.  
  
"In my home?" She cast a sideway glance. "I don't remember giving you permission to use anything here." Her face enflamed, Jubilee shut the curtains, rinsing the remaining soap of her body before turning off the water. Reaching out to feel for a towel, her hands grabbed empty air instead. Sticking her face out again, she glared. Tia smirked mockingly, the terry cloth draped over her arm.  
  
"Oh," she clicked. "Did you need this?" She dabbed her face delicately with it before throwing her damp cloths to the floor and tossing the clean cloth in the toilet bowl. "Your welcome." And she strutted out the door. Jubilee tensed, her whole body filling with enraged hate. The smell of smouldering plastic caused her to release the curtain, sparks jumping from her hands.  
  
"Bitch." Stepping out of the tub, she concentrated on the heat, letting it come close to the surface. The room seemed nothing more then drops of steam as heat radiated from her, somewhat drying her skin. Striding to her discarded clothes, she dressed herself, their cool fibres easing her stresses. Standing, she reached out, her hand knocking Tia's endless array of products into the same fate of that towel. "Oops!"  
  
Sneaking back upstairs, she grabbed her small canvas backpack (which contained all her belongings, few they were) before running back downstairs. Reaching the door, she noticed Mr. Simmons immense build blocking her way. Fidgeting in her dripping attire, she looked his way.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned. Lifting her brow obnoxiously, she sneered.  
  
"School?"  
  
"On a Saturday?" What? Subtly glancing across the room, she noted the circled date that was today.  
  
"Detention." Brilliant. He stepped forward blocking her escape.  
  
"Jubilation, we need to sit down and have a serious talk." His hand pressed heavily upon her shoulder. She didn't like the look in his eyes. "You leave before the sun, you return long after it sets...that's not what a family is." He crouched down lower, caressing her cheek endearingly. "In a family what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine-" Jubilee shrugged off his touch. A deep irritation took root.  
  
"Don't." A hurt look crossed his face and, for a moment, she almost forgot what a wife beater he was. "I don't like being touched. And I'm not part of your family." Sidestepping him, she rushed through the door before he had a chance to say anything else.  
  
The sun indeed shone brighter this day than any other. Spring would be coming soon. Grinning, she dug under her neighbours bush pulling out a pair of dirty roller blades. Pulling them over her sneakers, she skated down the sidewalk. First her pace was slow, almost cautious. Then she found herself speeding up, pushing her legs arduously into the heavy cement. Where before there was no wind, now her hair blew violently in her trail, gusts of dust swirling a curling along her path.  
  
She skated faster, faster, faster. As cars passed her on each new intersection she tried with all her might to keep their speed, her breath deepening and becoming somewhat ragged. This was life. When one skates, there are no rules, no boundaries and the only way you stop is by stopping yourself. This was escape.  
  
Hours melted away and only when her cramps transformed to biting pains did she slow. The greasy smell of Phat Franks and Junior Burgers invaded her nostrils and she was once again reminded of her stomach. Noting she had made it somewhere in the downtown area, she spotted a large mall. Heading in that direction she asked her stomach to hold its complaints. "Have to get money first, remember?" Her tummy gurgled, irate.  
  
Gliding through the metallic doors, she wadded through the crowd until she found a nice little spot amongst other poor artistes. Tacking of her blades and bag, she set her jacket before her in a bowl like shape to accept donations. Poor buggers, she thought as she watched the half interested passer-buyers nod along sympathetically to the one-man band and destructive magician. Some people are just meant for the spotlight, I suppose!  
  
Rolling up her sleeves, she spread her legs to a ballet second, deepening her stance to a Grande plié her arms great arcs over her head. She hummed a quiet tune. Turning to her right she pulled her arms in front of herself, clapping them in the direction of a disconcerting crowd. Loud, pulsating music blasted from the malls main system and Jubilee set her beat.  
  
Snapping her legs together, she bent over backwards, supporting herself in bridge, her legs one after the other magically coming off the ground, holding momentarily over her head before snapping open into the splits. Tilting her body down, she set herself down in the splits, crouched her arms, and lifted herself again into the air.  
  
"How about some applause people, hmm?" The gathering crowd nodded, a couple hands coming together. From the peanut gallery she heard shouts of 'You suck!' and 'I could do that!'  
  
Popping her shoulders, she jumped back onto her feet. "A challenge from the crowd, hmm?" she knew how to deal with hecklers. Motioning for them to come forward, the people opened to reveal two arrogant boys. Both stood around six feet, one with brown shaggy hair, icy blue eyes and a 'too cool for you' stare. The other gazed at her through deep indigo orbs, dark longish hair and slim build. "Well," she stared. "Now you have an audience; show them what you can do."  
  
The brunette chuckled superciliously. High fifing his partner, they squared off, facing each other. First he attacked the slimmer one, delivering fast paced punches and kicks. The partner dodged them all, flipping, jumping and spinning away. Jubilee watched how he moved; it reminded her of a Russian trained acrobat she had met when she was younger. The attacker had a more American feel to his attacks- fast and hard. She had to admit; they were great.  
  
When they stopped, the crowd broke into a thundering applause, money tossing itself in her makeshift register. The two bowed presumptuously, going forth to gather their gains. She stepped in front of them. Brief surprise crossed her face as she recognized the two from school, though she could not recall their names. "Fight me." The paler one looked surprised. The brunette however, just grinned.  
  
"No offence, but you couldn't take us if you tried." She grinned.  
  
"I won't have to." He seemed to think it over for a moment before conceding.  
  
"Bobby," the other one interjected, a German accent lacing his words. "Nein, we can't." Again the cocky one shrugged.  
  
"Relax Kurt." The crowd seemed to sense the sudden serious shift in the environment an backed away. Logan heard the familiar voice of the iceman and, as Jean, Marie and Scott stepped on, he held back. Standing at the edge of the balconies over view, the surprising sight of Jubilee squaring off against both Bobby and Kurt sent an unintended growl through his chest. He had come along with the others shopping for the simple reason that it kept him busy and out of harms way...mostly.  
  
Jubilee took a deep breath waiting for them to come at her. Judging from their little spar, Bobby would go offensive, driving her to a corner where both he and Kurt would jump in. She made sure to pay extra attention to Kurt whose flexibility and tumbling skills almost rivalled hers. She would not admit defeat.  
  
Bobby lunged at her quickly, throwing out a simple straight punch for her to counter. Instead, she used his arm as a vault and flipped over him, landing a sharp kick in his back. He stumbled forward, gasping painfully. Turning to look at her, both held looks of incredulous nature. The audience released their held breaths and applauded more as Bobby came to her again, reaching out with numerous kicks and punches. Kurt tried to close in from behind, throwing out less tense attacks as she twisted skilfully in the air. Immediately, she noted the difference in their technique; Bobby held very tense in each movement. He would be easiest to tire. Kurt on the other hand found it easiest to retreat, especially by using aerials. Formulating a quick plan in her mind, she dodged her head as a grab barely missed her.  
  
As she thought, the cocky one began to take more laboured breathing. Leading him to the centre of the circle, she jumped, clearing his head and landed a swift roundhouse to Kurt's head. As he fell, she spun quickly again and swept her feet about, knocking the other to the ground. This whole time, Logan kept his eyes peeled, amazed at her abilities. She effortlessly kept the pace of both the fighters (as untrained as they were) and even matched Kurt's mutant aerials. As both landed in a crumpled heap, his eyes gaped wider a s he caught another scent emanating from Jubilee; gunpowder. It was then he noticed, as she raised her arms in victory and the crowd screamed in approval, the glimmering sparks at the edge of her fingers. Just as soon as they came, however, they disappeared leaving Logan confused.  
  
No, he thought. I'm sure of what I saw. Gazing down, his eagle vision focused on the small girl gathering the tossed money and coins and heading to a burger stand to order. But that would mean...his mind clicked. Suddenly, he saw her in a different light. He understood more her reason for recluse, indifference. She's a mutant.  
  
DUMDUMDUMMMMM!!!! Whew, it's been quite a little while, huh? Well, really no reason, except that my dad's house doen'st have a nice big COMP like this. Hmm, pretty PC. Oh, I love my computer....I've missed it so much!!!! I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter and I hope you come back for more. Anycomments? Ant at all? PLEASE REVIEW!!! I like them...reviews I mean. They make me feel important.  
  
Ya'll are wonderful!! Until next time, toodles 0_o  
  
dizzy 


	7. Bloody Sunday

_Disclaimer: X-men Evolution, X-men and its affiliates are created, distributed and owned via Marvel inc. and its other corporate families. In no way do I own nor benefit from monetary profit from the release of this  
FICTIONAL piece._  
  
Bloody Sunday  
  
Logan stared idly through the window, the sun dipping low now and resting above the horizon. Laughter vibrated from below where the rest of Xavier's pawns pranced simply. The succulent scent of freshly roasted meat invaded his nostrils and he closed his eyes a moment to savor it. His mind however would not allow him to permeate such useless thoughts, and once again, he found himself flooded by today's revelation.  
  
"She's a mutant," his voice rolled like thunder; soft and pensive. None of the others had noticed her colorful disposal; he hadn't expected them to notice. Subtleties were his strong points, not theirs. Although, he had to admit, he thought there was something slightly off about her. Upon their first meeting he swore there was something, something so desperately different about her. There was an instant attraction, and he was sure she also felt it. They were kindred spirits...  
  
He stopped himself mid-thought. What was this? Who was he to be filled with such farcical fancies? Certainly he was better than this. He, the conditioned warrior; the fighter who succumbed to no temptation. Family, friendship and love were illusions of a weak world, a world unwilling to face the truth. Life was struggle. Life was competition. Life was war, and he would rage on.  
  
The springs squeaked lightly as he laid back, the soft plush ness of flannel rubbing against his rough cheek. Closing his eyes once more, he smirked. This place is making you weak.  
  
------------------------------- ------------  
  
Jean leaned against Scott, enjoying the warmth emanating from his hard muscles. Responding to her touch, he wrapped his arm about her waist, stealing a kiss from her grinning lips.  
  
"What's on your mind, Gray?" She shrugged, glancing over to where Kitty chased Bobby determinedly, Kurt laughing at her formidable effort.  
  
"Nothing much, just..." she paused; trying to place precisely into words what her mind had not yet formulated. She shook her head. "Never mind." Scott raised a brow from behind his quartz shades.  
  
"Never mind?" She pursed her lips, the mid-spring breeze ruffling her crimson locks. Breathing deep, she tried to sort through the chaos she called her mind. There was something she was supposed to have known, something she hadn't realized, but for the life of her, she could not place what, or when, or who she was to recall.  
  
"Ugh," she groaned. "I think I'm getting Alzheimer's" Scott laughed, rocking her sympathetically.  
  
"It happens to the best of us." He grinned, a devilish wink glowing through his sunglasses. "I mean, just look at the professor." Hearing their insult, Xavier glanced up from the grill and frowned.  
  
"Careful, Scott. After all," He lifted the half-charred steak from its fiery surface. "It is I who cooks your food." The two teens burst into laughter, enjoying the few youthful moments of their adolescence.  
  
Across the city, but not so very far away sat a lone girl. Her hands sifted through her pockets, enjoying the hefty fill of her days labor. Leaning against the rusted metal chain of the children's swing, she looked up to the sky. Remaining streaks of bright clouds ebbed as twilight swirled in its place. The moon was barely visible from the splash of evening light, but even as she admired its beauty, the sun sunk deeper and deeper behind the distant houses. At last, as it waved its final farewell, it disappeared completely, illuminating her body with the moons pure light.  
  
When she was younger, Jubilee believed the angels had lived there; up high, among the stars and the galaxies. She'd believed that every so often they would swoop down, disguised as a fallen star, and rescue those in need. The times she'd called to those depths, each time silence her only answer. How she wished to curse those heavens, to curse that monster...  
  
"Bastard," she whispered, her voice broken as the tears began down her face. She rubbed her eyes irately. She was no longer a child. She was no longer weak or useless. She would fight him, one day, when she found him. She would burn him, cut him, watch him howl in pain and cry for mercy and when he did, she would strike again, and again until his shrieks were no louder then a bubbling brook, and his blood ran as sweetly. A soft shiver ran up her spine, and she suddenly felt as if she was being watched.  
  
Coyly glancing through her thick lashes, she cast a secretive view around. Swinging off the child's play toy, she landed in the soft grass and cocked her head; the suburbs were clear and nothing but the plaintiff meows of abandoned cat's sounded. Cautiously, she began her trek to the Simmon's.  
  
Logan awoke suddenly and without much reason. Looking outside, he saw the stars had chased their paternal figure and replaced it with the moons swollen belly. Feeling restless and not knowing why, he started towards the door, checked for intrusive people and, finding none, crept along the shadows.  
  
It was several minutes later that he landed before his treasured cycle, and he mounted it with agile ease. Turning the key, he grinned satisfyingly as it revved before spitting gravel in its wake. He sped down the driveway and onto the highway, following only where his bike wished to go.  
  
Jubilee glanced up from the alley, invisible demons gnawing her gut from their places in the shadows. Eyes were watching her. She'd been watched enough to know when she was the subject. Something skittered above and she spun, looking desperately for this repeated offender. Unsettling nervousness settled in the pit of her stomach and she gulped a heavy lump, trudging foreword.  
  
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen and twenty...Looking around, Logan found himself in an unfamiliar part of town. Magnificent houses slinked darkly, picket fences offering protection for their republican owners. He narrowed his brow. That feeling of unrest had not yet faded. Revving the engine one more time, he raced down the clean road.  
  
She was in minutes of the Simmons, but still, the gaping void of the last traveled alley opened before her in a fashion most unsettling. There. There it was again. The noise, the skitter, the unwavering, disquieting sensation that had followed her from the park. Annoyance started to replace fear, she growled.  
  
"Stop fucking around; who the hell's there?" her cried echoed emptily along the deserted lot. She paused. Her eyes skewered every inch of the wall, the roofs, and the ground. Then, she heard it. Muffled, airy, but distinct. A chuckle; no, his chuckle. The laugh, which haunted her every night she slept, even those she didn't, and hovered above her mind in the waking hours. The laugh she'd vowed to rip from his throat.  
  
She snorted disdainfully. "Come back have you?" No answer. "Come to finish of your meal like the mutt you are?" she stepped bravely into the alley, slowing only as she reached the single lamppost. She basked in its light. "Surely even a bitch like you can find me in this light." The laughter stopped. An irate growl replaced it.  
  
The sounds approached her until she felt its dirty breath heating her skull. She turned slowly, purposefully to face the monster she had let escape so many years before. It was just as she'd recalled.  
  
Massive and ugly were the only describable words. It's height reached six and a half feet, broad shoulders spanning almost as wide as she was tall. Its thick neck protruded from a bulky fur coat that draped over his whole body hiding what she knew was strong, sinewy muscle. Attached was a face that could pass of as masculine, save the massive facial fur which knotted in long rivets over his slightly hunched back. His eyes glittered dangerously and she could see his strong jaws grinning in a belittling fashion.  
  
"Miss me, frail?" he growled, licking his massive fangs. She returned his growl, crouching in a prepared position.  
  
"Always, ass-face" He roared raucously with laughter, sending Jubilee's anger just inches from her fingertips. He stopped, sniffed the air and winked.  
  
"Catch me if you can" And he took off. Down the alley Jubilee followed, surprised still at his agility despite his size. She could tell though, by his pounding footsteps, running was not his forte. Pity. She could feel the distance close between them when suddenly he stopped, in the middle of the road. He gazed down its darkened lengths almost as if he were on the look out for something, or someone.  
  
"Can't finish me by yourself? She started. "You need sidekicks for a little teeny-bopper?" He growled swiping a thick claw angrily her way. She leaped over it, rolling over his shoulder and spat burning explosions from her palms. He howled in surprise as it scalded through his coat, burning of the topmost layers of his skin to charred bits. She cocked her head dizzily. "Like, oww."  
  
He hunched over but a moment till he pounced back to her, fangs gleaming. This time she was not fast enough. Grabbing her head, he threw her down, forcibly cracking her head on the cool cement. She tried to move, vision temporarily blinded as blood flowed from her pounding gash. Holding her drooping head high, he grinned.  
  
"I," he paused, running his tongue over her bloodied face. He was pleased with her sickened regard. "Am going to enjoy killing you." He held her for a moment longer until suddenly she realized why. Looking up, she saw a cycle racing down the road. "You grew up nice frail," he punched her abdomen, knocking the air from her lungs. "I'll see you 'round." He dropped her to the ground with a sickening thud.  
  
And in that moment he was gone, the roaring of the dying cycle her newest worry. Still trying to gulp air as fast as she could, she stared helplessly as the cycle pounded closer to her. Holding her hands up as a shield, she felt a familiar sensation travel up her arms. Only this time, she could not control it.  
  
"No," she stuttered. "No, no, STOP!" she screamed, bright lights burning through her skin and colliding with the racing bike. She could feel her powers filing the bike, into the gas tank; "NO!" she cried again, sobbing desperately. This was not supposed to happen. Why couldn't she pull it back?  
  
The bike flew only inches back until the tank exploded, lighting the block with its fiery light. The rider was catapulted in the air, his helmet smashed to bits. He bounced upon landing, skidding down the bumpy terrain. Then all was silent. Scalding bits of metal smoked on the empty streets and around houses started to light, screams entering the night. "Oh, god," she chocked. Standing on shaken legs, she approached the fallen victim. "Oh god," she whispered, turning him over.  
  
Blood was everywhere; everywhere and she felt the same fear of that fateful night. "Don't be dead, don't be dead," she repeated the mantra over and over again, feeling through the sticky liquid for a pulse. She pulled her hand back, startled. He moved.  
  
Shuffling back, she watched in utter amazement as the gapping holes in his face closed, the joints, broken and dislocated rejoined themselves, filling her ears with a sickening cracking sound. As this process occurred, she saw one hand raise itself and wipe away the blood from his now flawless face. Her heart stopped.  
  
Logan. He stood, rolling his neck as if to relocate it and faced his bike.  
  
"Son o'a bitch!" he cursed. "My bike!" She sat, frozen with incomprehension, her skin turned pale and clammy beneath the layers of sweat and crimson juice. He turned, as if sensing her trepidation. His eyes widened, and then seemed to reach some unspoken conclusion. "Well, s'pose ya know about me too, eh?" She trembled. He crouched down before her, his nose crinkling in the same fashion that the beasts did. "Sabretooth," he whispered.  
  
He touched her gently, wiping some of the blood from her cheeks. "Darlin', what happened?" She trembled more violently, and kept her urge to throw up in check. Too much: Too much had happened too fast. He understood. Stepping back he allowed her space.  
  
She stood up, wearily and for moments they just stared at one another. Then, the silence was broken as the wail of sirens descended their way and curious inhabitants dared to step from their homes. He looked back and saw her disappearing figure. He would let her go. She needed time. His thoughts turned back to the scent of Sabretooth, all over her, as if he'd; no. He stopped his mind right there. Something was for certain. She had a secret and he was sure it would take more than kind words to wrench them from her lips. Turning, he prepared to face the onslaught of medical servants who would attack him with questions and prognoses. Sighing deeply, he focused his mind.  
  
'_Professor_,' it called. '_I'm in need of some divine intervention_.'  
  
The houses blurred past her as she ran. Her bruised stomach cried objectively as she leapt a few fences, her mind suffering impermeable damage to vertigo. She stopped just before the Simmons home, rinsing her face with the back yard hose. Her stomach lurched a final time and the dining's she had enjoyed earlier that day displayed themselves lavishly on the lawn. She hosed the mess, watching it disappear beneath the dark grass.  
  
Her shivering rested and she felt a slight calm over come her. Probably shock she reasoned. For this she was grateful. She doubted she would be able to digest all the events of the past night in this same hour. Her head pounded painfully and she knew she would sleep deeply this night.  
  
Entering through the front door, she stumbled past the kitchen, not particularly caring if anyone heard her or not. Dropping her bag on the floor, she slid off her heavy sweater and soaked shirt and shorts. She could sleep in her unmentionables this evening.  
  
She climbed the stairs with particular difficulty, feeling for each one as she moved. Down the second floor hallway she lurched, her mind spinning faster now- the world tilting and spinning off kilter. She bumped into something hard and fell, not bothering to get up immediately.  
  
"Jubilee?" the drunken tune of her foster father surprised her; she thought they were all soundly sleeping. She turned over, very aware of her near nudeness. "Hey, hey, where are you going? The party' just getting started!" he slurred, grabbing her scrambling ankles. She fell once more, and fought with all her might the descending state of unconsciousness. He spun her around, pinning her to the ground with his knees. She could feel him through the flap of his housecoat.  
  
She fought him futilely; it hurt less with no struggle. It was bound to happen sooner or later. If not the father, then the mother, the brother, the cousins, nephew, a niece...there was no escaping it. Not in the trailer parks, not in the suburbs. He pulled of her underwear with aggressive ease and entered her quickly. Down the hall, she heard the door open, Tia's abused form hiding in the shadows. She could feel her grin, and struggled to show no emotion.  
  
Her body, already tight and sore, cried upon the abuse and she hid in her mind, wrapping herself in the memories of better times; CynJen (back in those days, they gave one another nicknames on the shortened versions of their own names. Cynthia Jennifer= Cyn Jen, Jubilation Lee= Jubilee) how they would race down the streets, take whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. She briefly wondered if this was some karmic punishment for her misbehaviors in the past. If she could take them back...  
  
He groaned on top of her, grabbing her breasts painfully. She hid further inside her mind, and thought of her parent's, glorified more in death then in life; isn't that always so? Doesn't one only truly understand the importance of any given thing once it is gone?  
  
Those were her thoughts, her shields before she slipped into unconsciousness, the worries of the world fading, fading quickly.  
  
(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)  
  
_Hey guys; that chapter was a long one in coming. Actually, I'd written it ages ago on my laptop and completely forgotten about it. For anyone who's still following this, thank you for you patience and I will really try to update more often. School and life have just been sort of crazy right now, so I really apologize for my delay. You can count on the next chapter being up sometime next week. Hope you enjoyed reading!_  
  
_Thanks always,  
  
Dizzy_


	8. Beauty and the Beast

She hadn't yet returned to school. Monday passed into Tuesday and each preceding day dissipated to the next. He sat, unmissed, as the physed teacher attempted to instruct his students on the importance of fitness. Save for the periodic assemble of 'yes sir's and dull nods; the class seemed joined together in the silent torture of instructor blasé.

Thinking back to the weekend seemed as though he was trying to recall events from a pre-natal period. All that occurred seemed surreal; something that would occur only in some demented story or mainstream comic book. Yet he knew it was all-true. When he returned to that mansion early that morning, he encountered the Professor awaiting him in the parlor.

"Logan," he had begun, in the voice of a disappointed parent. Xavier waited for him to speak, but he knew not were to begin. Was it even his business to share this information? He wasn't even certain the young spunkster had digested it all; would it be fair to share her tale without consent?

Perhaps Charles had read his mind. Perhaps, also, it was merely the use of his intuitive skills. Whatever the means, he understood Logan's reservations and pressed the matter no further.

This returned him to the present day, as he lounged against the wall, admiring Jean in her flimsy soccer shorts and vaguely bemused of her attraction to the one-eyed weakling. His ears piqued at the hint of a sound, and he looked expectantly to the doors, as they swung open.

Jubilee strode through, her face a mask of unreadable chaos. Still she wore the baggy rags of a philandering punk, her eyes the reflection of one who had seen the moon for many a night. The dual doors slammed noisily together, alerting the react of the populace and interrupting the floundering teacher. She walked straight passed him and plunked herself on the wooden bench. Logan stared at her, trying to catch her eye. She was avoiding him. It was to be expected.

Jean idled close to Logan, poking him in the ribs.

"She's really going to set McNally off, hmm?" He smirked.

"Aaack! Whose this, young lass, strodin' in so late?" She showed no response, and he saw the dark fibers of her Discman snaking into her shirt. The tall Scotsman marched right before her, snarling like a pit bull. "Hey, you! Deaf?" again, she refused to look up. Jean breathed a collective gasp with the rest of the class. No one ever had the will to stand tall in front of the highlander. He had a way of withering the mind to an empty bagpipe. He heaved smoke. In a swift moment, he reached out and snatched the earplugs from her head. She raised her head.

"Yes?" she hissed tersely. He pointed to the gym.

"Twenty laps! Now! Ye hear?" Her answer was one of silence. Logan cast a concerned look her way. Jean noticed.

_Are you two friends? _Her mind whispered. He didn't answer. Presently, the gym leader looked like an H-bomb on the verge of release. Steam seemed to permeate his skull, blood flooding his face and a disarming hate dripping from his eyes.

"I don't have time for this shit." Before he had a chance to reply, she stood, snatched back her earphones, and stalked angrily out the door.

The room deafened in silence. Logan followed her path with his eyes and sensed something terribly amiss. Standing, he followed her way, slamming the door behind him.

Jean sat perfectly still, breath caught in her chest. That girl, hadn't she seen her somewhere before? Her mind had no time to deliberate the matter as McNally sent them immediately into what she could honestly describe as the most intense exercise of her life. Whoever that girl was, she thought as she heaved her body into push up position, McNally's nazi shrieks echoing her ears, she was going to have to pay dearly for this.

Jubilee pounded down the hallway, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt the stress she had been avoiding compress, causing a brain-splitting pain. Crying out, she gripped her temple and slowed. Leaning against the locker, she felt her knees buckle. _Weak_, her brain protested. _You're a frail, just like he said._ She didn't care. She was through caring. She wanted only to slide to the ground, and keep sinking until the whole world sucked her up. A tear rolled down her cheek.

This was the sight Logan confronted as he stepped into the corridor, empty sobs wracking the walls. It was a cry he'd heard only from the most downtrodden in spirit. There it sat; crumpled in a heap.

"Hey," he reached out slowly, as to a cornered rabbit. She pulled her head up, heavily. Her mascara ran inky rivers over marble skin. She didn't bother wiping the mess away. He hadn't a clue what to say. "You alright?" A tense silence rang his ears and inwardly he winced. All the senses in the world wasted upon the densest of all creatures. Her face cracked, a hollow laugh sending chills down his spine.

"Fine," she brushed his hand away and stood, teetering. She took a step passed him, wanting only to be left alone with her thoughts. Alone she could deal with. Alone she knew, like the roads of her warped past. _But, I don't wanna be alone! _She swallowed deeply, biting her mouth shut. "I'm fine." The lie cracked before it whispered.

Logan watched her back turn, her mind shut off. He had seen this before; every time something came too close to the surface. The truth, he knew, was a dangerous thing. She was stepping forward, each step closing the distance between her and total destruction. _Leave her be, wolf-boy. What are you going to do? Preach for humanities sanctity? Sing of a sun that will rise again?_ Hypocrite! His mind shouted over and over and over again. As she reached the exit doors, he shook his head. Since when was he one to follow common sense? It neither followed logic, nor was it very common.

Her hand felt the coolness of the handle, its smooth metal silently shifting gears within its wooden depths until it clicked with resolve. This finality, she knew was the farewell to change. Somehow, her mind though- he could be one, like her. No. Simple is never the case. As the door swung open, she prepared to enter again the resolute silence of her mental sanctuary.

She could not move. Her arms were pinned to her sides, a hard warmth enveloping her completely. She cried in surprise, and looked up to see the solemn face of Logan, his three o'clock shadow darkening the curves of his youthful lips. She tightened, trying to break free. Futile.

"Let go," she hissed. He held harder. She thrashed violently within his arms; biting and kicking and crying like a wounded banshee. "LEMME THE FUCKGO!" her shrieks threatened to burst his ears, and he was fully aware of the peering eyes of curious teachers. One growl in their direction, however, sent them hobbling back to the safety of their classrooms.

Turning around completely, he pulled her through the door, down the exit and out into the drizzling gray sky. His grip never loosened.

"Shh, darlin', s'ok..." his gravelly voice comforted. She refused. Tears ran harder down her face, her body rupturing in spasmodic convulsions. Her voice was growing hoarse, but still Jubilee fought.

"No, n-no," she choked. Her movements began to subside. The complete fear and humiliation poured out along her woes. She yielded completely to his strength, permitting him to release her only to face him. She covered her sodden face and breathed a shaky breath. "Its n-not..." she hiccupped, her body quivering from exertion. He pulled her close, a deep sense of protection seizing control. A growl welled deep within his throat, and the hair on his body stood on end as the smaller figure nestled deeper into his side.

Minutes passed, and she seemed to have calmed, but neither made an effort to move. Finally though, he spoke.

"We need to talk," Jubilee nodded. She felt calmed by him. She felt safe. He lifted her easily into his arms, and she complied, content to rest peacefully.

The rain still pounded when they reached a café, one of Logan's favorites (or so he said). She stood by herself, leading the way with his guiding gestures. Settling into the cozy environment took only seconds. Soon after, two steaming cups of caffeine presented themselves before her. She cast the burly Canadian a thankful glance, and he seated himself on an adjoining couch. "So," he spoke. "Me first then?" Jubilee nodded, slowly. She knew very little of this man, save for his sameness. He was a freak, like her. His accident on the weekend proved that much. She also knew he hung around the redhead school queen and football jock. Did they share his secret?

"There's no real place to start. I mean, most times, people start stories at the beginning. As for me, well, I don' remember the beginning, so it seems sorta pointless to start there, eh?

I guess the closest I can assume is my meeting with Xavier," Xavier? Jubilee recalled that name. He was a rich old man, who lived a quiet life in Manchester on a mansion that put many castles to shame. Logan grinned.

"Heard o' him, hmm? Not surprised. Ain't many that haven't. He's got a way of stayin' on the front page o' things, ya' know?" She nodded. He continued. "Can't quite remember how I got there, but I was in the underground of his home, fightin' 'gainst Cyclops, Rogue all them." Jubilee raised a brow. He nodded. "You might know them by other names; Scott Summers, Marie, Jean Gray... All of us. We're all mutants." She said nothing, only feeding him with the same stupefied glare he had given when learning this for the first time. He chuckled.

"Seems like somethin' outta some messed up comic story, eh? Sad thing is, it's all-true. See, Charles, Xavier I mean, has two fronts. First, he stands as a fighter for social justice of all beings, especially mutants- the new breed no one believes exists. Second, he harbors a school, a safe house if you will, for things like us."

He raised his left hand and, making sure the staffs were in the back, allowed one gleaming claw to creep from between his knuckles. It gleamed sharply in the dim lighting, the wound it created healing faster than the expanding blade. Jubilee gasped. Reaching out, she traced its outline. The brief contact sliced her skin, revealing its true jagged quality. She pulled her hand to her mouth, sucking gently on the wound. He retracted it quickly, a zinging noise resting in her ears.

"During the day, we're like everyone else. We go to school, work a part time job. But then, night falls, its Mutant High." She sat back quietly, replaying the words he'd just spoken. A school? A school full of freaks just likes her? Impossible. That couldn't possibly be legal...wouldn't the government claim it as some terrorist base? Were there even enough of things like her for there to be a school? Her bones felt the truth of his words. Even if they had been fabricated, to what purpose would they serve, save the response of mockery and humiliation?

"A school," she mumbled. She looked up, her cheeks still slightly ashen from the remains of her visionary river. "Hmm." She glanced up, a smear smirk on her lips. "So what's your nickname? Fur ball?" He rolled his eyes. It seemed she was feeling better.

"Wolverine," she nodded.

"Wolverine. WOLverINE. WolVERine...Wolvie-" She chewed on the word, playing it over several times before nodding. "I like it" He sucked back a retort, settling instead for the pleased grin on her cheeks. If it pleased her so much...yet inside he knew he felt no real insult.

They passed the next few moments in comfortable silence, the earlier tension slowly ebbing as the caffeine took hold. Ever minute or so, Jubilee would look over, as if she wanted him to hear something, but she would quickly return to the depths of her cup until all vanished but a drop. Whatever it was that she had to say, he knew it was serious. He didn't wish to press matters unless they demanded his immediate attention. "Wolvie," she whispered, so shyly his ears piqued in order to hear it. He looked up, cigarette halfway to his lips.

"Hmm?" She seemed to change words mid-thought.

"Guess you don't have to worry about cancer, huh?" He sucked the sweet aroma deeply, the lighted end catching expertly.

"Nope." She nodded, her eyes roaming his, searchingly. His senses tingled, and he tried desperately to read her signs.

"You know, Charlie's always partial to meeting other, you know. You should come over sometime." Careful not to show any emotion, she blinked casually. It sounded better than the alleys she had resorted to in the past few nights. If the rats didn't keep her awake, then the company would.

"Yeah?" He nodded. "What's the deal?" He shrugged.

"Better then the streets I'll bet," she jumped. Had he read her mind? "I could smell it on ya' this mornin'." She narrowed her eyes.

"What exactly are you? An ambidextrous dog?" He chuckled at her cutely puzzled expression, feigning extreme insult.

"In short, I heal, see, smell, hear and move well. Real well." She nodded.

"So I was right about the dog part." He snorted.

"And what do you do? Toss smart-ass comments?" the corners of her mouth twitched teasingly.

"Fourth of July, from my fingers."

"Hmm, Bright."

"And hot; or, so I've been told." He nodded, remembering the stench of charred Sabretooth. What interest did he have in her? Whatever it was, he hoped to find out soon.

"So, whadya' think of visitin' Charlie's lot? You goin' to help me deal with the moron's there?" She paused her grin. What did she have to lose? A night free from rats and cold and stink? Safety from things that strike in the night? She shuddered in memory and nodded.

"Sure," she shook her head and nodded harder. "Yes, yeah I will." He smiled a true genuine smile. She smiled back. And there they sat, two fools grinning away their sadness and pain as the rain showered on.

_A lighter chapter to lift the mood of the previous two. Coming up soon, Wolverine discovers the secrets harnessed by his new friend. What is this vendetta the two share? What will Xavier and co. think of their new cooperative? What of the Simmons's? Will they survive the nuclear blast suburbia has set?_

_Those are quite a few questions, and I hope to answer them all. Pass the news. Review, and furthermore, enjoy!_


	9. Uncanny Introduction

Uncanny Introduction

_Disclaimer: As I am not Stan Lee (note the pseu-nom) and I own nothing but a rather torn sweater, I claim no ownership to the rights and usage of these fictional characters. They have been used without permission, but I hope Marvel can overlook that. If you dare, read on._

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

Jean's eyes narrowed on the little clock that dangled right above mister Smithers' desk.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

In her mind, she focused, and like a film, tiny images of its meaningless screws came to her vision. She saw them twisting, ever so meticulously yet still so slowly. Her concentration deepened.

Tic, toc. Tic, toc. Tic, toc.

"Psst!" Kitty hissed. Jean held up a momentary hand, acting like some sort of remote control that, when topped with a wink, sufficed as a response.

The tiny hands of the object glared defiantly from the glass, their music ever continuous. Her attention seeped even further and, to her delight, she saw the hands quicken, one tick at a time.

"As we see in past historical circumstances, the desire of war overrides the true political and economical sanctioning on such a scrupulous…" M. Smithers continued on, his monotony in perfect rhythm with the time bomb. Kitty bit her tongue, watching as the ticks sped on, and on and on until the sharp shriek of the dismissal bell cut through the lecture. The instructor threw a startled gasp to the clock behind him. "B-but, we still had a half hour!" he sputtered indignantly.

Knowing his attempt to retain the already rejoicing student body would end only in vain, he let them by, misery etched in his sour gaze (directed mostly at Jean). Grinning pleasantly, she giggled as Kitty linked arms and waved an appreciated farewell.

"Great class today, Sir!" and off they pranced, into the hallway, ready to enjoy the rest of their day.

Scott rested his head against the cool material of his 2003 corvette. Three summers of full time work as landscaper/garbage boy had earned him almost enough money, the remaining bill a gift from the professor. Admiring its sleek crimson, and white sport stripes running horizontally, he thought of another red head that would complete the ensemble.

"Hey, Scott! Waiting long?" He needn't raise his head to recognize the voice, but he did anyway, pulling his mouth into a mock frown.

"Yeah. What took you guys so long?" Kitty smiled sheepishly.

"I, like, totally took the wrong book from my locker-"

"And we all know how useless she is without me as a guide!" Jean quipped, dodging a quick smack from the shorter brunette. After a small exchange of tom-foolery both girls jumped quickly in, Jean as shotgun ("Where else would I sit?") Without a moment's hesitation, Scott revved the engine and off they sped.

Jubilee examined her nails. Actually, there wasn't much of it left. For some reason, she felt a deep nervousness in the pit of her stomach and no amount of swallowing seemed to wash it away. She lifted another finger to her lips, nibbling softly on the cuticles. The familiar metallic flavor spilled into her mouth and she cursed mentally at the juvenile habit.

"You shouldn't do that, darlin'." Wolverine's voice rumbled like gentle thunder. "Looks like it might hurt." Though she rolled her eyes, her hand dropped to her side, resisting the urge to smooth jagged edges. Logan eyed her carefully.

Both decided to leave school early that day (he knew he'd be hearing about that later tonight) and He'd decided on treating her to a shopping spree. Instead of her ripped jeans and baggy sweaters, she now sported a pair of fitted low-rise pants, a chestnut colored top and (much to his disbelief) a long yellow trench coat.

"It's so hot!" she'd said. Jabbing his stomach, she reminded him pointedly that "Plaid's been out since the nineties Wolvie. I don't think your advice on fashion counts for much."

Now they lounged in the parking lot; him leaning against his adored racer, a cigarette hanging from his lips and she standing straight before him, nose crinkled in a disgusted look, hands hard on her hips.

"That really is a nasty habit," she commented, lifting a brow. He shrugged, tacking a long drag and blowing it her way.

"Hey, no more'n ten years ago, it was the thing to do." Lolling her eyes (apparently a favored response) she snagged it from his fist.

"Peer pressure too much for ya'?" her eyes looked heaven ward, a mockingly cute pleading face staring the length of the smoking poison. "Poor muffin." He reached to grab his stolen treat when her hands glowed, dissipating the remaining butt.

"Hey!" he snarled. She smirked.

"Addicted much?" he frowned, throwing another leg over his cycle.

"Let's 'git goin' girl" He felt the uneasiness return to her demeanor and he cocked his head back. "Lost all your spunk now, hmm?"

Reaching down by her feet, Jubilee gripped the ragged duffel and slung it securely over her shoulders. Grabbing the helmet from the seat, she turned it over as if it were a magical eight ball whose answers needed only gentle psychic cajoling. When she looked back up, she saw concern in Logan's eyes.

Okay girl, she breathed. This is it. Grinning reassuringly, she strapped the helmet snuggly and tried to lace her fingers about Logan's waist.

"Whoah boy!" She said. "Lay off the beers maybe- aaaAAAAHH!" she cried as the engine revved and tires smoked, pulling the front end up as it sped off. Her grip tightened on his jacket and insults swelled on her dry tongue. "WOLVIE!"

Kurt leaned lazily over the edge of the couch. His lean, attractive face currently swelled red as the blood rushed to his brain.

"Agh!" he groaned. "Vhy did ve have to come so soon from school?" his German accent reminded Bobby of those old Commanders he saw in Hollywood films, the evil undertakers of the plot. "Sheizzar! I'm bored…" he droned.

"Shut up Kurt," Bobby said. "No one cares." Rogue stifled a laugh at their antics. It never was safe to encourage these two. Last time, they'd ended with the tops of all the toilet seats frozen. She had _not _been pleased.

Brushing a strand of white bang from her eyes, she glanced around to the others. Of course, Jean and Scott cuddled closely together, singing disgusting tunes of 'No, I love you more's' followed by tiny pecks and innocent giggles.

Kitty yakked un-intellectually to her newest boy interest on the phone while Storm, Beast and the Professor spoke quietly amongst themselves.

Gazing out the window, Marie was surprised to see Logan had not yet arrived. When they had been informed the previous night that a new (tentative) edition would be met, she'd assumed not even the mighty Wolverine would be exempt from the welcoming committee.

Just as the room began growing discordant, the faint roar of an engine sounded, sputtering slowly to silence. As expected, the parlor doors echoed their arrival. All nine heads spun in that direction, though nothing could be seen from the closed doors. Xavier nodded to his two associates and he alone proceeded past the door, motioning for them all to remain still. Secretly, Marie felt a pang of excitement. Who could this new girl be?

Jubilee hid nervously behind Logan's muscular frame. The closing of the heavy cherry-wood doors announced finality to her decision, the closing of one chapter of her life and the opening of another. She hoped is would not be from the dramatic section. Comedy perhaps? As her mind filled with inconsequential thoughts, her eyes gazed the new surroundings.

The door sat upon a raised platform and to enter the main hall before her, they descended three steps. The entire décor seemed reminiscent of the English Victorian age, the finishing's all deep and rich and shiny on the wood, the tall staircase splitting in many directions on many floors and the banisters all polished to a rich bronze. If she hadn't felt intimidated before, she certainly felt so now.

She heard a sound to the left and tensed.

"Relax Darlin'; it's the Professor." Logan said this as though it was a regular occurrence she experienced. He's only a member of elite society, born of old money, leader of a secret mutant organization and controller of minds. Regular indeed.

Peaking shyly from his side, she studied him. A man of definite stature she could see regality oozing from his presence. Though he was bald, his smooth skin and high cheekbones added an incomparable youth. His tall frame folded gracefully in the arms of a smooth electric wheelchair. Even from this distance she could smell the clean leather and rubber tires.

His eyes caught hers and she felt caught. As if he could see straight into her mind…she blinked and mentally strengthened her reserves. He couldn't yet be trusted. No one could.

"You must be Jubilation Lee?" his voice had a soft musical tone, laced with a refined British accent. Logan moved slowly to the side so that she was in clear view. Feeling slightly vulnerable, she squared her shoulders and dropped her shades. Not trusting her voice to sound as strong as she wished, she simply nodded in approval. "Very well."

"You alright?" Logan nudged her toward him. Again she nodded slowly. Logan signaled the Professor. He smiled warmly.

"Well, then; shall we proceed?" and the doors before him opened, and a light filtered through so that she could not see the other side. The entire production had so heavenly an effect she half expected the emergence of gospel hymns.

Instead she was met with faces- both young and familiar. At first they simply stared and then slowly, recognition dawned and she could feel the wonder in all their eyes. She saw Jean Grey, captain of the soccer leagues and Kitty-something-or-other, captain of the prep-brigade. A tall guy in the back with colored lenses stood centered, as though he were their leader, a blue (could she believe it? Blue and furry- like an elf! With a tail? Oh, she bit the urge to pull it) fellow and his antonymous partner standing to either side.

Xavier watched her reactions closely, but she let very little show, save for an initial surprise. "Welcome, if you will my x-men, Jubilation Lee."

He might have extended such an invitation, but she no longer heard him. Shivers rippled her skin and her gaze drew to the back window. It stretched over the entire wall, paned and gleaming luminescent. Behind it were wooded grounds. She stopped. And there were eyes- angry, hate filled eyes. She gazed intently, matching the hate and the intensity. Her mouth tightened defiantly.

It watched from the shadows. No gender could be associated, not after all it had seen- all it had done. That would associate a sense of humanism that which it no longer regarded, that which it openly mocked and destroyed. It watched from the shade of the trees, through the high glass that sparkled in the warming weather. It watched her enter and look awestruck- It watched her weakness emerge. Then, It saw her tense and browsed Its way. She caught Its eye but did not falter. She was challenging It. Her eyes said it all. I will kill you- soon. I will find you and gut you and make you writhe torturously, just like you did to me.

It smirked, fangs glinting ravenously. So it shall be, frail. So it shall be.

_Whoo, been quite a while, hasen't it? I feel awful, I really, reallydo. Bright side, my Coz (I think she goes by Amon's Girl, or something of the latter) has begun posting (she's really quite talented. If you like Witch Hunter Robin, you might consider her story) and she's been getting on my case about posting more than say, oh, every five months. So good news for you. Not so good for my sanity. It's much overated though, isn't it?_

_Merry Christmas all_

_dizzy4 _


	10. First Impressions Last

Whoo, bloody while since I've posted! So incredibly sorry, but this perfectionist had been terrible ailed with the most gruesome case of writer's block imaginable to man. I hope these chapters are up to grade. Please review. Thank you so much all you incredibly wonderful, patient readers. Send me you're address's and I'll send you cookies 

Disclaimer: By the power vested in my by my own self, I take no claim to the personages and characters pertaining solely to marvel and associates. If you so desperately seek a lawsuit, it will do no good- I am a minor and by law have been decreed unworthy to sign in my own name property or ownership over any or all things. Please enjoy responsibly.

First Impressions Last

"Finally, this hall separates into individual quarters, where all my charges stay." Jubilee fought to maintain her sense of awe. In the time that had passed, not only had the sun chosen to hide below the horizon, but she had been led in and out of frivolously dressed rooms and halls- each more glorious then the rest. Rules and regulations had been laid out clearly and concisely. This was the manner, she concluded, Charlie conducted his business.

"Rooms, right?" she mumbled unconsciously. Xavier raised a brow in a charming way. So she had been listening. For the past few hours, each question was met with a restrained nod or garbled 'Hmm". These words were the first spoken voluntarily.

"Indeed," he smiled.

"Cool." Jubilee allowed him to roll forward, her attention mostly diverted to the layout of the rooms- the exits, eavesdropping points. Though, every so often she paused her musings, as to know which room belonged to whom.

The majestic hall split off two ways, the ceiling unfolding as only a rose might open to the sun.

"To the right," motioned the Professor. " We shall find your own accommodations." And he spun, allowing her first access to the door. She almost ran into the back of his chair, and blushed furiously at her inattention.

"S-sorry," she muttered, though he chuckled in reply. She hoped he took it as nervousness and nothing more. Reaching out a tender hand, she was surprised to see how easily the knob turned. The heavy brass of which it was composed looked to be heavier, and the door creaked only slightly as it opened.

He said nothing as she first absorbed the surroundings. From her demeanor, he could tell she was guarded though he had yet to learn what secret she withheld. Her silence seemed forced, partly from the way she walked, partly the unapologetic smirk behind her eyes convinced him so.

She entered the room slowly, her eyes tracing the high arch of the ceiling, the vast openness of the room and the continued Victorian theme, complete with a queen canopy. He chose this time to continue.

"Each room is similarly equipped with the necessities; a bed, a bureau as well as a dressing chest." Jubilee felt her lips turn up.

"A dresser?" Xavier felt her tension beginning to ebb and returned her grin.

"Such is the Western phrase." She rolled her eyes before she caught herself. "In any case, extras are earned by your own means, though this does not necessarily mean outer employment. As you will learn, we all have responsibilities of our own to meet." Jubilee meant to have asked him what this meant, but she felt the answer would be as vague.

"Okay…" She affirmed, if only to fill an awkward silence. Sensing this, Xavier nodded.

"Very well. If you have any questions, please feel free to speak to me at any time- " He trailed. For some reason, he found Jubilee difficult to comfort with words. "Logan will be up shortly with your things. The rest of the children tend to congregate in the downstairs parlor, if you wish to join them."

Jubilee stared out the window, only barely registering what he said. A school for mutants: this was ground zero for genetic disjunction. And how formidable- who would have thought? Locked away in a Victorian mansion nestled away in the woods of Westchester New York, yet only minutes from one of the most influential American cities.

"Oh, Jubilee, once again. Dinner is at-"

"Seven?"

"Six, if you please," Charles spoke in jest and Jubilee grinned.

"Thanks Charlie," she flashed him a thumbs up and winked. He merely nodded and waved dismissively. It was seconds later he realized her chosen utilization of his name. Yet, by unclear purpose, he didn't seem to mind.

Jubilee waited until the door closed before she dropped her bag. The room was so large it echoed when the bag landed. She whistled. This was going to be a change.

Kneeling on the plush carpet, she carefully unzipped her weathered parcel, revealing a mismatched jumble of clothing and toiletries. Her hands ruffled expertly through until her fingers brushed soft wood. Lifting the medium sized book-shape from where it hid, Jubilee traced over the familiar insignia.

"Soon," she whispered, assuring. "So very soon."

"What, hungry already?" The bemused growl sent shivers up her spine. How preoccupied had she been, not to notice the approach of another? Quickly jamming the box into the bag, she zipped it hurriedly and shoved it under the bed.

"Huh? No, I was just-" she laughed nervously and popped a bubble from gum that had gone unnoticed until now. "You know."

His brows felt the urge to furrow in suspicion. Anxious beads of sweat practically danced over her lip and she wasn't able to hide the nervous shake of her hand. Whatever it was that Jubilee had been viewing, it would not be considered public domain. He sensed no danger from it and so, for now, he allowed her to keep this secret.

"Supper ain't gonna be ready for a while, darlin'" he tossed in a grin to ease her tension. "Might as well make yourself at home." Finally remembering what it was he came to bring, he pulled his arms from behind his back and shoved a soft ball of gray into her hanging arms. "Right, you'll need that."

"Huh." She blinked. Stretching her arms before her she eyed what now appeared to be a jogging suit. Simply gray in color and accented by a small black insignia upon the left breast presented it the property of 'Professor Xavier's Academy for the Gifted'. Jubilee's lip pulled up in disgust. "You said nothin' about uniforms." He laughed.

"S'not for that."

"What for then," she countered, a little sneer in her tone. Logan raised his brow, a teasing smile playing his lips.

"C'mon. You should go meet the others." He turned, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Hey," she called after him, dropping the suit. "Don't change the subject! What're the suits-" And she followed his chuckles through the hallway and down the stairs.

He paced nervously. Fiddling his fingers, he drew a handkerchief up and blotted his face, sucking as deep a breath as humanely possible. The air was stuffy. Through the heavily lined windows, he could barely make out the outside. It was as though the room existed on its own, exclusively. For all intensive purposes, it could be very well true.

How had it come to this? His name, Gregory Hayes, was well known within the financial ring. He was top priority. Did your company suffer an onslaught of bankruptcy? Gregory counteracted. He made pillagers into rich mongrels; he held the power of the majority of all international clientele within his grasp. Yet here he was, and he was reduced to a very shaky state.

"Mister Hayes, so glad you could join us." The voice- he'd only ever known Him as the voice. Velvety as it was smooth and now he was to be condemned by it. "My associate and I have caught wind of some rather, unsettling news." A small light dimmed the black room. It flashed amber and died slowly. Death curled around this fire. Death chocked him in this room. The speaker allowed the smoke to billow a moment before continuing. "We were under the impression you had agreed to our plans." A deep growl rippled through the room. Where was it coming from? He looked around desperately yet found himself unable to move. "Were you to have changed your mind, we are also somewhat hurt you chose to run from us. After all, we're all friends, aren't we?"

That growl morphed to a chuckle. Low and mocking, his bones cried against it. Fear froze him to place.

"Please, Sir I-"

"Have an explanation?" Could his face have been seen from the shadows, Gregory was certain the Voice's brow would be lifted. Another curl of smoke unfurled. He felt a hot breath on the back of his neck.

"God no," it was only a whisper.

"We do not deal well with betrayal here. Mister Hayes, I will remind you again there are two roads to be taken. Our way,"

Gregory tried to scream but quickly something grabbed his mouth. The growl around him increased to unimaginable levels. It resounded in his mind as though a thousand bombs exploded. His pleas were muffled as a searing pain swept through his chest.

His bones were breaking, his muscles and tendons all were shredding. He gasped for air yet received only the strangling sensation of a crude copper in his mouth. Gregory's shrieking eyes looked out to see the cigarette approaching. The glaring tip opened as a well before his eyes imprinting forever on his tortured soul the sight of one's own, beating heart.

"Or death," The light was extinguished and all that was left was the sound of someone licking their fingers clean.

"Hey, I said CATCH it, stupid!" Kurt chuckled, reappearing behind a very frustrated Bobby only to be intercepted by Kitty.

"Sorry guys, this one's mine!" She spun over their bodies and continued the last couple steps before triumphantly spiking the ball onto the soft grass. "Too like, hot out here for you Bobby? Because I think you just got BURNED!" The girls jumped around wildly, high fiving one another on a job well done. Jubilee stared at them from her place by the pool.

It was after supper, but before dusk had begun to set and it was suggested a game of football be played. No power's were to be used, but it did not seem to be discouraged and Jubilee soon found herself in the midst of sulphur gases, floating, telekinetic balls, laser passes, ice catches and super strength throws. She snuck away half through the game but no one noticed. To her, this was perfectly acceptable.

They were all much nicer than she would have initially thought. Scott was just as bossy and Jean remained the know-it-all, but here they seemed more open, more human.

"Hmm," the irony in her statement caught her off guard. Is this what she thought of them? Inhuman? If so, what did that make her?

Glancing back to the field, she watched them continue in their jamboree, each unafraid to show their power. Such control, such precision. Jubilee turned her hands over in her lap, locks of her hair clouding her vision. Such small hands. When the time came, would they be able to stand up to his?

"Hey, Jubilee!" She threw her head up, caught in her musings and smiled her cheery grin.

"Yeah- ahh!" Hands from either side grabbed her by her wrists and ankles, pulling her up from the slippery deck. "Heyy!" She giggled. "Put me down!" She was laughing with them as though they'd all been friends for life. They swung her back and forth.

"One," Logan called out, Jubilee frowning at him.

"Don't you dare!" Scott stood to the side of the group.

"Alright, that's enough guys."

"Two!" Laughed Kirk and Jubilee struggled to kick him, laughing the whole time.

"Listen to Scott!" She cried, watching Scott shake his head seriously.

"Three!" And in the chorus of yells, Jubilee felt herself flying. Shrieking with a joy unfelt in so long, she spun and grabbed the first limb she saw.

The cold of the water jolted her senses. She felt herself spinning, alongside the weight she pulled in. Releasing it from her grasp, she tucked immediately, grinning at the feel of butterflies wrestling in her stomach. The pressure decreased quickly and in no time, she popped up from the frigid liquid.

"You guys SUCK!" she yelled, laughing as she swam back to the edge. Turning her head to breath, she caught sight of the victim she'd dragged (literally) with her. Scott Summers. Only, he wasn't laughing. His eyes clenched shut; he seemed to be keeping afloat with one arm while scouring desperately for something with the other.

"My glasses," he yelled. "My glasses!" He swore, feverishly trying to feel in the water for those familiar quartz lenses.

Jubilee spun to the others, searching their reaction for any sign of a joke. They were all dead pan. One started shouting something about his power but, as they all joined in at once, Jubilee could not tell one from the other.

Swimming closer to the floundering man, she delved her eyes into the darkening water. Spotting the goggles floating just beneath the surface, she dove for them.

"Scott, Scott! I've got them," she thrust her hand before his face, dragged below when his first hand flew to retrieve them. Pushing away from him, she came up gasping, looking to meet his very, angry eyes.

He made it to the pools edge in seconds and ran passed the group and into the door. The mob who, moments prior had been laughing and joking now looked at her with unreadable explanation.

"Scott! Wait Scott it was an accident, please!" Jean was the first to break the tension, running of after his soaking figure. Pulling herself onto the deck, her brain processed at last the coldness of the evening. She looked up, surprised to see apologetic eyes.

"We didn't think to tell you," Bobby reached out, helping her up.

"We've got, y'know, our strengths but also weakness'" Kitty seemed to be staring at the beautiful southern girl who's name Jubilee had forgotten.

The others mumbled similar apologies before awkwardly leaving. Jubilee stood there, her one-ten frame shivering, her cloths sticking heavily to her.

"You're still here?" Jubilee looked to Logan who, unmovingly, kept her gaze.

"I ain't going no where. It was an accident. They happen kid." Her eyes flashed. Kid? With all she'd seen, done, had done to her. All her experiences and he saw her as nothing more than a kid.

"I'm not a kid." He kept her gaze.

"Yeah, you are. It's just a shame you didn't get to be one longer." She gasped. Did he know? He couldn't know. She focused her eyes on his. Blue met blue, as though the sky gazed to the ocean; both a world a part yet so perfectly reflected.

She blinked. But could he be trusted?

"G'night," she said abruptly.

"Seeya in the morning," a light chuckle could be sensed but Jubilee had neither the strength nor the will to learn anything more of this place or its people. They were very counterproductive to the success of her plan. Her fist clenched; and she had a plan.

Logan turned his eyes to the horizon and sniffed. Dark clouds settled above and the air was growing thick.

"Something big's comin'," he mumbled.

The sun set.


	11. Quiet Discovery

_Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own anything resembling the fascinating world of the X-men. Please don't sue- I'm poor and a little little person._

_P.S. Sorry again, looong time before posting. Please enjoy._

**Quiet Discovery**

I'm standing, somewhere in the midst of swirling fogs and clouds so that clarity is impossible. I try to clear it from my path, to move the twisting masses from me. I don't like the way they float, I don't like their coldness and I can't stand their silence. If colour permitted penetration, it would be grey, all grey and white and black and silent. My eyes squeeze so tightly that a headache forms. I ignore it and press on. Suddenly the stretching open burns with images- some are my memories, some are imagined moments. I press through these to the darkest end, where all the mist and fog seem to avoid. I move, though there is no floor beneath me nor sky ahead. My head pounds, but it can be ignored. I stand on the brink of an opening, the pressure increases, and the pounding turns into sound- audible sounds. Voices.

"Mister Hayes," I hear, not in a welcoming tone, but threatening. I can taste fear on my lips. I smell smoke- he smokes, the man who has this power. Focusing on the conversation, I realize it's like learning a song from a scratched c.d. The voices ebb, like waves, and the images freeze and skip and speed so that understanding is as possible as seeing through that fog. I press on. "We were under the impression…our plans." There is illumination like that of a match flickering and with it, I recognize a face. My lips part and there's a gasp and somewhere sniffing- someone knows. The light recedes and I hear more mumbling until there is a sickening scream and popping sound. Only darkness remains.

---------------------------------------

Logan shuffled down the hallway- it was quarter to five and though he did not require sleep like most others, he enjoyed the solitude and comfort of bed. He'd already changed into the mandatory jogging suit and zip up hoodie, their soft fleece still no consolation to the cool morning air. He stopped before Jubilee's room, whose door was (of course) closed and locked from the inside. Pressing an ear to the obstruction, he heard the murderous pulsation of the alarm clock though there was no movement within. He sighed, how the hell can someone sleep through that flippin' thing?

"Jubilee," he hollered, banging uncaringly on the door. "Get up." He paused. Nothing. "Jubilee!" he was louder this try and the alarm (thankfully!) turned off. "I know you turned off the alarm, now get up and open this door." This he could not hear, but he was certain a growl was her chosen response. He waited, but there was again no movement, no hurried movements, only the soft snoring of a lazy sixteen year old. He drew a long breath and grumbled, "Why the hell do I always get stuck with wake up duty?" a deep breath. "Open the door right now or so help me god Jubilee!" the beams rattled as he yelled and downstairs the sleepy students chuckled. Finally, he heard her small frame drop on the floor and scuffle to the door. It rattled for an instant and he grabbed the knob, yanking it open. He frowned at the lump at the end of the bed. Before he could growl, Jubliee's muffled voice interrupted.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" her voice was hoarse and drowning in sleep. "The sun's not even up yet!" Ignoring her complaints, he strode over, grabbed a visible foot, and dragged her off the wide (and very high) four post. She landed with a muffled 'oof!' and groaned.

"Put on your suit, its time to exercise." Her eyes would have popped agape if she were awake enough to control her body's response.

"What?" He pulled the remaining bits of blanket from her body and she yelped. "But its early! And cold!" She held out a malnourished arm. "Sides," she pouted. "I don't need to exercise. I need to eat." A face full of fleece was his only sympathy. Grumbling she pulled the heavy knits over her pyjamas and slipped her already socked feet into the pair of sneakers she had tossed aside last night.

"Let's go," he grabbed her upper arm and, ignoring her continuing arguments, pulled her to the main foyer.

"Alright," Scott grinned, irking cheerful for the lack of daylight. "Let's get going."

Forty-five minutes later, Jubilee dragged her sore feet up the increasingly long staircase. The deep hunger she'd felt upon her rude awakening had faded, replaced with sad muscles, furious at the voluntary exercise she'd put them through. "I'm sorry legs", she breathed, massaging her bony limbs, "but Wolvie's evil…you'll have to blame him." A long hot shower and cup of coffee seemed to help her body finally awaken and it was as she sat amongst the others for breakfast that she recalled the strange dream that had kept her from sleeping. Yawning, she poured herself another steaming cup of coffee and picked at the muffin before her. Normally, she would simply disregard such obscure dreaming- but this one; it was far too real and far too relevant. "I wonder", she spoke beneath her breath. Then suddenly, her mind blinked. The man, the one with the smoke- she had seen him before. Her brows bend in concentration. She could almost see whom, and where, no, not quite- oh, she groaned. His name she could not recall, but the other presence, his scent she would recognize anywhere. What would Sabretooth be doing with Him?

"You know, talking to voneself is a sign of insanity?"

"Gah!" Jubilee jumped as Kurt stuck his fuzzy blue face before her. As she had learned this morning, this was his true appearance, hidden from others by a very clever holographic machine tripped by his watch. Who knew? Charlie should really patent some of these ideas. He should also warn others who are not so informed. She sighed. "Don't, don't do that please, it's way to early." Beside her, there was a giggle.

"Better get used to it. Professor X makes us do these workouts everyday." Kitty shrugged. "You'll learn to like 'em." Jubilee downed the last remnants of her coffee.

"You're all like extremely dysfunctional, you realize that?" The group laughed and cleared their dishes away. Stuffing a remaining mouthful, Jubilee crept from the chaos and wandered to the front doors. Climbing up one of the vast bases of the columns, she leaned against the warming stone and pondered.

"Shirkin' dish duty, are we?" she shrugged.

"I put my cup in the washer." Logan rolled his eyes and in two leaps, landed beside her. Nodding, she grinned. "Ooh, talent." And her eyes closed again. A moment of silence passed between the two, though Jubilee could sense Wolverine had something to say. She allowed him his time.

"How do you know 'im?" she peeked from a corner of her eye.

"Who?" Logan skipped a beat. Maybe it was too personal. Really, it was none of his business that she knew- and already she'd told him her explanations would come. Perhaps it was better to wait. But she did know Sabretooth, his mind countered. Why would that be? Nothing good ever came from associations to that beast. He reprised.

"Sabretooth," her body stiffened. "From the fight the other day, you were fightin'…" he trailed. When she still didn't answer he nodded. "Look, you don't have to talk about it if you're not ready, but you gotta' know Sabretooth's not the kinda' company you want darlin'." Jubilee rubbed her eyes, hiding her lips in her palms.

"I was thirteen, an' lived in The Hills. Daddy was the head of a major bank, and leading in a new international financial processing." She smiled wryly, rolling her head to him. "Funny isn't it? Me, the daughter of financial wizards, hah," her sigh cut the sarcasm short and she continued. "So anyway, on that day I'd gone to see Dad at work and overheard him talking with someone from Telware-"

"Telware?" Logan marvelled. "They're the leaders in satellite and GPS technology, what interest would they have in a bank?" Jubilee lifted her brow and Logan stopped. "Oh, sorry darlin'." She continued.

"Anyway…They were arguing, you know, in the way mature adults do when they know they can't step outta' their ranks er whatever. Later that night I get home", She paused, her mouth searching for the right words. "They said it was a car accident. But I was there- I saw…" Her jaw tightened and she blinked the burn from her eyes and tried to cover the flush.

"It's okay, cry, let it out," Logan wrapped her reluctant body into his. Her tears were silent, slipping thickly down her cheeks and soaking his shirt.

"I've been tracking him," her voice was void of all youth and humour. Logan froze. Straightening, she stared him in the eye. "I promised I would. I've been tracking him for three years. Do you know what I've discovered?" Logan kept her icy gaze. "He wasn't working alone."

----------------------------------

The following days passed in a daze. Neither Jubilee nor Logan brought up the subject they'd discussed so seriously that first morning. A secret agreement seemed to have passed between the two. As those days fell into weeks, and those into months, a bond formed, tighter than could have been predicted between the two.

Professor Xavier watched them quietly from his study. A game of capture the flag fought itself brilliantly beneath the spring sky. The air was still cool, although the waning sun shed warmth that was expected.

"Professor?" Hank knocked softly on the sturdy wall, knowing there was no need.

"Come in, Hank." The burly Doctor lumbered through the door with a grace not akin to others his size. Though physically he appeared frightening with a blue furry body like that of Kurt's and a snout holding sharp fangs, his very demeanour was calm and poetic, juxtaposition. When his abilities had shown in tender pubescence, this man had taken and sheltered him from others that would pounce with cruelty upon his regard. For that, he was eternally indebted. Seating himself across the mahogany desk, he leaned in.

"To what to I owe such an honoured appelle?" Noting Xavier's grim face, he turned and realized for the first time the television was on. Xavier turned up the volume.

"In other news, conference between Telware and Lee International Banks continue. The founder of LIB and his wife tragically died in a freak automobile accident just over three years ago. Today marks its first day's lead by Jason Hudson, cousin to Telware President Mathew Hudson. Merger has been rumoured for years between the two corporations, although neither…" Xavier clicked the mute, sending the room in silence. Hank dropped his jaw.

"Could it be possible?" Charles crossed his hands pensively on the shiny surface.

"If the rumours hold true, yes. And it will almost certainly be very disastrous for us." Hank shook his head.

"Impossible- even if that were his intent, to do such a thing within the public eye? And without approval from senate it would never be possible…" Charles rubbed his forehead, easing a tense breath from his lips.

"Let us only hope, my friend. Let us hope."


End file.
